


How To Get a Chick's Number, Lincoln Burrows' Style.

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln and Jane exchange phone numbers, mid-season two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Get a Chick's Number, Lincoln Burrows' Style.

"Linc," Aldo said, grabbing his son’s arm. "You know it’s for the best. But if you decide he comes with us, I won’t argue."

Lincoln watched as his father went outside through the French doors, ambling towards where the cars were parked, like nothing had just happened in this kitchen in the middle of Colorado. Like Lincoln hadn’t just rammed an eight inch butcher knife into a guy’s gut and Jane hadn’t just fired a bullet into him that finished him off.

Just another day at work, no doubt, for his father who was a spy, not an alcoholic wife beater.

He stood in the kitchen for a few silent minutes, wondering how in the hell he could tell LJ, in a convincing way, that the best thing for him would be to go off with Jane, a complete stranger, who had saved their lives a couple times in less than six hours, but also appeared to be able to kill people without batting a eyelid.

But who would be able to protect LJ? A woman who could kill people without batting an eyelid.

He put his hands down on the counter, bracing himself against it. He’d done a lot of things in his life that had been hard, but going out there, now, to face LJ, to tell his oft-neglected son, _Hey, kid, this is for the best, please believe me this time..._ Yeah, he wouldn’t believe himself either.

"Lincoln?"

Jane’s soft voice came from behind him, startling him. He jumped and spun around, not because he didn’t know who it was, but just because he’d thought he was alone in the house.

"I’m sorry," she said. "I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to tell you, if you leave LJ with me, the only way he’ll end up dead is if I end up dead. And I’m very good at my job."

Lincoln felt his lips kick up in a half smile at her...arrogance? Assuredness? Confidence? He wasn’t sure what it was, except that he believed her, 100%. "Everyone I know, who I’ve cared about, has died, Jane. It might be a better idea for you to get as far away from this as you can."

"I can’t do that. I want to see them brought down, just like you do. And I’ll keep working for that, whether I watch over LJ for you, or whether I go on some other assignment Aldo wants me to take care of. Either way, I’m working for the same thing you are. It’s up to you how I do that."

"What’s in it for you?" Lincoln asked, settling his hips against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, really looked at her. She was a beautiful woman; long, blonde hair, a true blonde, not a bleached-out-fried-on-the-ends mop, but healthy, shiny hair that Lincoln actually wanted to touch. Her eyes were clear and green, so much like Veronica’s he felt his heart clench. And her lips were pouty and pink, even without the added flair of his headbutt. Though, he had the feeling the bottom one in particular was a little more pouty than usual. She could have been a model, she was so lovely, and tall, and graceful, but instead she was a gun-toting spy, just like his father.

"What’s in it for me? Besides hanging out with your son, you mean?" She flashed a quick smile, and Lincoln felt his face respond, another smile touching his lips, only this time it wasn’t just the corners of his mouth twitching, but both of his lips curving upward. "I’m a patriot, Lincoln. I believe in this country, and when I started working for The Company, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Now... now I just want to fix what I can, and that is my mission, and my life goal. And if protecting your son is part of the way I can help that get done, I’d do it for the rest of my life, no complaints, no reservations."

Lincoln felt an insane urge to hug her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to hug anyone except Michael or LJ. Maybe Vee, but even that seemed like something he never even thought about. He just wanted out of Fox River, and now he was, but it was so much more complicated than that. "I want you to know something," he said slowly, and she tipped her head to the side, listening intently. "I trust two people in this world. My brother and my son. That’s it. I don’t trust that man out there, my father, because...well, because too much shit has gone on for me to be able to let it all go in an afternoon, or even a year’s worth of afternoons. But if you tell me, right here, right now, that you’ll keep my son safe, I’ll believe you. I’ll give you my trust."

Jane reached out her hand towards him, palm down and Lincoln looked at it, and then back at her face questioningly. "Give me your hand," she said softly. Extending his right hand, the one he’d washed blood off of no more than twenty minutes before, he felt a shudder work its way down his spine, and it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling as her fingers brushed against his palm. He felt something small and sharp-edged touch his skin and then he realized it was a folded up piece of paper. "That’s my cell phone. It untraceable, so you can call it whenever you want, and talk to LJ whenever you want." She pressed her hand into his and then her other hand came up underneath, to cradle his bruised knuckles, the ones he’d rammed into that guy’s face and gut as many times as he could. "I will guard him like he’s my own child," she said solemnly, her eyes never leaving his.

Lincoln felt the semblance of another smile eek its way on to his face. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was pretty sure he’d just smiled three times in Jane’s presence. Because of Jane, because of something she said or did, or both. Tears pricked his eyes suddenly, not because LJ would be safe, though he was eternally grateful for that, and not because he actually _did_ trust her, and her solemn green eyes, though he did that as well, but because maybe what this meant, this moment right here–a dead body lying several yards away and gentle hands touching his–maybe it meant that there would be an ending, a happy one, and he would get his life back. He would have moments, and maybe even three in quick succession, to smile, to feel his cheek muscles work in an upward movement, not just clench as he ground his teeth in frustrated anger or overwhelming despair as he swallowed to keep tears of grief at bay.

She squeezed his hand between her own, but gently, as though she were totally conscious of his battered hands. Then she leaned close to him, touched his cheek with her lips buzzingly and said, "You better go tell your father and your son what you’ve decided."

As she walked away, her hips swaying softly, Lincoln thought that maybe when he had a moment, after he met up with Michael and they got on that plane to Panama, maybe then he might let himself think some more about her fingers wrapped around his hands, and her lips pressed to his cheek and her vow to protect what he loved above all other things.

And maybe he might smile some more, too.


End file.
